****Conversations between Spiders by Tals Diaz
BLACK COFFEE, WHITE SUGAR. At least there are some things in this world that are still black and white. Not quite like the gray matters at hand that spurred the sudden caffeine conference- for as we know these days, any pressing topic that requires endless nitpicking and overanalysis must always be soused with a bittersweet bean brew. I guess to lend it that dramatic Beatnik effect.
Pass that dark elixir for walking wounded number one: a thirtysomething male TV producer, left miserable and confused over a budding relationship that somehow left-turned into a mere relation between buddies. So much for wining and dining and not to mention kerplunking a hideous amount on cellphone calls, only to be relegated by his object of affection to the "good friend" department, thus being filed under the same category as the girl’s other "good friends" who shop at Zara and watch "Desperate Housewives" religiously. Just for this, I’ll name him "Buddy."
Sipping her cappucino quietly while listening to his diatribes was walking wounded number two: a nineteen-year-old professional model, also royally messed over the fact that an unlabeled, five-month long affair was fated to remain stuck in such ambiguity. Let’s call her Smitten Miss Kitten. She had initially resisted any romantic entanglement, until she finally opened up, got swept off her feet… and somehow found herself stuck in a "weird" place where she’s emotionally attached but not exactly connected. Well, they don’t call it "falling" in love for nothing- you really do lose some sense of balance and get bruised up in the process!
Then there was me, playing eye tennis between these two characters of Gen X and Why. I watched the cream in my third cup of coffee shape itself into a spiny-legged spider, consequently leading me to think about the spiders spinning in Neil Gaiman’s world these days, and how it somehow connects to all this. (Patience, grasshopper, I’ll soon reveal why.)
Welcome to the Gray After, or the twilight zone of dating in the 00s.
Flings and things
It could be anywhere from a fling, a weird strain of bestfriendship, a mutual admiration, an open, non-exclusive dating arrangement or an unlabeled affair. My favorite ambiguous moniker yet would have to be "a thing," such that curious people can actually go up to you and ask "hey, don’t you guys have a thing?" and though what exactly that "thing" is remains a mystery, you nod and say, I guess we have a thing.
It’s this state of ambiguity that leads to that all-too maddening game-playing, where your skills in mind reading, strategizing and trickstering are put to the test. Though virtue is prized in every relationship, there also exists this other dimension of mischief that is neither good nor evil. It’s absolutely ironic, that even if we’re sincere with our intentions, we still have to be just slightly deceitful in order to survive.
Case in point: Smitten Miss Kitten had advised Buddy to be more of a "malandro," which translates to a rogue who uses cunning and cleverness to turn any situation to his favor. A malandro would be an expert on how to use to his advantage the cell phone, a.k.a. that third party in between every relationship these days (giving the Holy Spirit a long delayed retirement). A malandro would know better than to be too available or reachable at the early stages of the dating game. He’d know that not texting once in a while or not replying to a girl’s message unexpectedly would leave her confused, wondering and dammit, make her start growing such things called feelings. For much as girls like romance, we do love a good mystery, too.
Buddy then shot back at Smitten Miss Kitten by suggesting that in her case, the guy probably lost interest because the chase was over. Man, that bummed her out. He said that if she wanted to play the "malandra" herself, it probably would have helped if she mischievously, harmlessly flirted with other guys, or actually somehow dropped hints about other men to fan a little needed jealousy.
Spiders, webs and other icky stuff
So in effect, we’re all like spiders, manifestations of Anansi, the spider trickster god in Gaiman’s latest novel (o-ha, connecion!). Wily, crafty sneaks who spin gossamer yarns in our games in order to get what we want. Of course, too much spinning can weave tangled webs of our own design. It reminds me of this girl who once pretended she was drunk at a beach party (even if she didn’t like to drink) just so she could squeeze out sympathy from the man she had "a thing" with. Worse than being a lousy drunk, she was a lousier actress, and she only turned him off for good.
Complicated? You bet! Love may be a many-splendored thing, but it’s also a many-legged creature. Still, I can think of a few relationships that are uncomplicated. Like the symbiotic relationship of the common fungi and plants, for one, where the fungi live in plants’ roots, and in return, help the plant absorb the good stuff from the soil. Tout simplement!
But we’re not fungi, and more than that, we’re certainly not common. If relationships were as effortless as coming up with an agreement ("I dig you, you dig me, so groovy baby let’s live long and prosper!") then the whole concept of love and romance just loses its thrill. If you think about it, it’s the complexities, the mysteries, the grays, pretty much those details that make you go batshit that keep us hanging in there, even if it be by a thread. And if we are looking for a way out of the twilight zone by having concrete titles and labels, it is but a natural attempt to understand the enigma better, just as we tend to affix labels on the things and people we understand the least.
In the meantime, for all the Smitten Miss Kittens and Buddies out there struggling in the gray zone, take some solace in knowing that it’s the things that are truly of value in this world that are worth the struggle- be it love, strength of character, or life itself. If it were all that simple, it wouldn’t even be worth nitpicking over three cups of coffee.
